


Bitter Sunlight

by Griffindork



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, a little bit of Bellamy/Gina, a little bit of Minty, basically Clarke and Raven are dorks who angst over each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griffindork/pseuds/Griffindork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No fucking way.” Octavia shouts, laughing. It shakes the bed and you groan at the movement. She sits up straighter, pulling the bed covers up on her chest and resting her coffee on top of the bunched mass. “You fucked her?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think it counts as fucking, O.” You deadpan, breathing in coffee and out your headache. “I ate her out in the bathroom of a house party.”</p>
<p>Or, Clarke and Raven know of each other because Fin cheated on them both. Raven tries desperately to hate Clarke and Clarke is really attracted to Raven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Sunlight

“Come on, Griffin.” Octavia whines on the verge of begging.

“No.” You answer, shaking your head and not meeting her eyes. She pouts, you can see from the corner of your eyes. “I’m just not feeling it.”

“But this could be exactly what you need, Clarke.” She kneels down on the bed before you, hands outstretched like she wants you to take them and she’ll pull you up like she always does.

You’re shaking your head before she’s even done, “A night out with three couples, O?” Her hands drop to her knees, realising and resigned. “No.”

She stays silent before she stands steadily from the bed and walks to the desk. When she returns to sit on the edge of the bed beside you she has her head buried in her phone and her fingers rapidly tapping away. You peak over her shoulder and see the message she’s typing to Lincoln and you roll your eyes.

“Get out.” You say suddenly, shoving her shoulder. She stands to stop herself slipping onto the floor and looks at you like you’ve suddenly gone crazy. “Go.” You insist, pushing yourself up to level your gaze at her.

“Clarke-”

“No. You’re not cancelling on your boyfriend because of me.”

You turn her around, hands on her shoulders, walking her out of your room and down the hall. She splutters out complaints and arguments but you ignore them and throw her coat at her. She catches it and holds it between her hands. “We can have a girls night.”

“Go out with your boyfriend, O.” You say tiredly, rubbing at your eye. She’s looking at you with her eyebrows pulled together and her bottom lip twisted beneath her teeth. You shake your head, shaking away her worry. “I’m fine.” She doesn’t look convinced but you just shrug. “I have work to do.”

The door shuts behind her reluctantly and she promises you that you can just text her at any time. You won’t and she leaves a kiss on your cheek regardless. You trudge back to your room and fall heavily back onto your bed. Huffing and more annoyed than sad after a whole week.

Honestly, you had planned to do some work, catch up with missed revision, but you just don’t feel like it so instead you open up Netflix.

You flick through a few times and eventually settle on a film you’ve already watched three times. It’s Friday night and you’re laid in bed in only an oversized t-shirt. You haven’t spent a Friday night like this since you started college but then you suppose finding out that your boyfriend was cheating on you and that _you_ were the other woman will do that to you.

You must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you know is that the credits are playing on the film and your phone is vibrating by your ear. You shut your laptop down, pick up your phone and reply to Octavia’s numerous messages, messier and louder the drunker she gets. But then there’s another message from an unknown number and the only thing on it is an address. You’re just about to delete the conversation thread but then before your eyes the ellipsis appears and your curiosity wins out. You wait.

‘PARTEY BITCHESSS’ appears a second later and if you didn’t know any better you’d think it was a drunk Octavia. You wait for a minute longer but they don’t come back.

Against your better judgement you paste the address into google maps and it’s just across campus, about a fifteen minute walk from yours and Octavia’s apartment. It’s tempting, to go to a place you don’t know with people you don’t know and sit among people who don’t know you. You look at the map again, eyes tracing the yellow line from door to door and throw your covers off of your body.

* * *

At the end of the street you can see the bodies stretching out onto the grass, see the light spilling from the open door and hear the music bouncing out into the night. When you get closer it immediately smells warm and hot and alcohol buzzes in the air. The music is so loud you can’t even hear yourself think and it’s exactly what you need.

“Ladies go free.” Some guy says with the beginnings of a beard and a topknot, a drunkenly sleazy grin on his face as his eyes skate over every inch of you but your face.

You plaster a on a grin and slide through the small gap he leaves in the doorway. Bodies sweep you up immediately and the heat coats a thin layer of sweat on your forehead. Somehow they manage to push you exactly where you want to go and you finally stride confidently towards the punch bowl filled with some red liquid. You know better than to just grab a cup of something that looks so homemade and grab a beer instead.

It’s not your favourite, but it’ll do and you’re on your third before you even leave the kitchen. It leaves a slight buzzing through your veins and you’re just drunk enough not to care what anyone thinks of you when you slide onto the dance floor.

Your vision spins just slightly and you’re sure if anyone actually spoke to you your voice would be slurring too, but nobody does and you just keep dancing. The sway of your hips matches the beat of the baseline from the speakers, and there are people surrounding you, close enough that they bump into you sometimes.

There’s a rivulet of sweat rolling down your neck and you can feel your hair sticking to your forehead from the heat of it all. You must look terrible, but the alcohol in your system doesn’t let you care all that much. Nobody knows you here.

Hands eventually land on your hips, guiding your movements and pulling you back into a hard chest. You don’t mind the contact and you carry on dancing anyway, enjoying the fact that this guy is demanding you closer and wanting only you. His hands slide over your stomach and down your thighs and his breath is hot on the back of your neck. You lean into it.

“Clarke?”

“Clarke.”

“Miller!” You say, grinning sloppily at his concerned frown. The guy behind you tightens his hold possessively and you slap him away, stopping the synchronized grinding of your hips against his. He says something that you’re pretty sure would get him a bloody nose from Octavia but you can’t hear it over the music and he disappears between the bodies with a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” Miller asks, sharp and concerned with his arms folded over his chest.

“It’s a party, Miller.” You explain with a giggle. You move forward to punctuate your words with a poke to his chest because this boy needs to lighten up, but there must be something on the floor because you trip forward and the next thing you know your face is buried in Miller’s chest.

You giggle and you can _hear_ the grumbles in his chest as his hands settle on your arms and pull you up. “You’re wasted.” He tells you, slinging one of your arms over his shoulders and wrapping an arm around your waist. He begins to lead you through the bodies, hit and nudged by wayward limbs on his way.

“I think that was the plan.” You whisper honestly, seriously, in reply.

The cold air hits you like a ton of bricks and it steals the breath from your lungs. Your skin is immediately covered in goose bumps and you whimper at the loss of heat and the way your vision stables in sudden soberness.

“Can you get us a glass of water?” Miller’s voice is deep beside your ear and the voices you hadn’t even noticed until that second quiet. Four pairs of eyes turn to you, and when they land on you recognition settles on their features. It’s the dark eyes that capture you the most, brown and angry and hard.

You pull out of Miller’s hold, suddenly a lot more sober with the combined efforts of the cold air and the glare being directed towards you. “I’m fine.” You grumble at him but you don’t look away from the eyes, refusing to be embarrassed.

“Why’re you here?” She asks, leaning back on her right leg.

“I was invited.” It’s not a lie and you shrug, mirroring her stance.

She clenches her jaw, looking away and over the dark garden. You try not to let your eyes linger, but, god, she’s beautiful. The light shines through the kitchen window and surrounds her like a goddamn spot light, dragging your eyes towards her. Her jaw clenches and unclenches under your eyes and one arm wraps around her waist tightly, the other keeping her red solo cup by her lips with whitened knuckles.

A red solo cup is held in front of your face and you have to look away then, to the pointed look Miller’s shooting you as he shakes it before your nose. You take it reluctantly and drink it quickly, even though you’re pretty sure most of the alcohol left your system the moment your eyes met your ex-boyfriend’s girlfriends.

The only noise in the silence then is the music that vibrates the wooden structure beneath your feet and shakes through your body. You tell yourself that that’s the reason why your heart is pounding in your chest.

“I’ll go.” You say, pushing the empty cup into Miller’s chest. He wraps his hands around it, catching your fingers as you turn to leave. He opens his mouth but it’s not his voice that speaks.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t keep you from anything.” You glance over your shoulder and she spares you one last sarcastic smile before she walks past you quickly, footsteps heavy on the wood, and barges your shoulder. “I need a drink.”

“Raven.” A boy says helplessly, he puts his cup down and makes to follow after her, but Miller just grabs his arm and pulls him to a stop with a shake of his head.

“Leave it, Mont.” He whispers, sliding his hand down his arm to squeeze his hand.

You pause for a second, because _this is Monty_ and isn’t it great. Your friend’s new boyfriend is friends with your ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend. The way Miller looks at him almost makes it less horribly funny in your head, because he looks so _smitten_ despite the awkwardness. But then you remember that somehow you’ve found yourself at the same party as someone you actually really want to avoid.

You gently pull your arm out of Miller’s grip and smile sadly at him. “I’ll see you for movie night.”

“Clarke-” He protests.

“No, it’s okay.” You promise, even though you feel sadness seeping into your stomach again, heavy and uncomfortable, and you don’t want to stay anymore anyway. “This was a bad idea to begin with.”

You turn and manage a few steps before Monty stops you again and you have to hide the way you desperately want to groan out loud.

“Miller talks about you all the time.” He says, and he looks so innocent in the way he shrugs and smiles at you. “This is the first time I’ve met one of his friends. Don’t go.”

“Raven is-”

“My best friend, yeah.” He grimaces and his hand tightens for a second on Millers. “But.” And he just shrugs with a wry smile, glancing at Miller and then at you.

* * *

Somehow you find yourself staying for longer than you even planned to when you set out. You _like_ Monty. He’s cute and dorky and is already versed in how to wind Miller up and calm him down with a simple, cheeky smile. He’s kind and smart and incredibly loyal. Even when he’s paying attention to you his eyes flicker up every so often to glance through the window and you know it’s in search of Raven.

You’re on a bench in the early hours of the morning, shivering against the cold and rolling your eyes when they eventually get distracted by each other, hands that had been resting on a thigh too high to ignore through the alcohol. They don’t notice you when you stand and turn to go back through the house.

You have to walk through the kitchen before you can get out and honestly you’re not at all surprised when you bump into someone because the longer you’ve been here, the busier this place has gotten.

“I thought you left.” She says sharply, eyes narrowing. You find yourself wanting to see her eyes when they’re not filled with hate but then you suppose that kind of look would never be directed at you now.

“I’m going now.” You answer, hands up in surrender. You don’t meet her eyes, looking around her and mentally mapping out the route of fastest escape. “I’m sorry.”

You step around her, pulling your coat closer around your body. She pulls her beer bottle up to her lips and takes a deep drink but her eyes never leave you. You can feel them on your back as you make your way out, burning hot and curious.

“Why are you apologising?” She shouts above the din of the house. You turn around and she hasn’t lowered the bottle from her lips but she quirks her eyebrow at you expectantly. “Is it because you slept with my boyfriend or because after that, you turn up at a party I just happen to be at?”

She leans back on her right leg and you look her up and down carefully. She wobbles on her footing, and while she _is_ glaring at you you’re pretty sure that she’s only narrowing her eyes to keep you in focus. “You’re drunk, Raven. I’m not going to fight you.”

“You know, that’s funny. Because I didn’t want you to sleep with my boyfriend either. Yet here we are.” She sneers at you, looking you up and down with distaste.

“What do you want me to say, Raven?” You snap, stepping back into the room fully and towards her. She doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink and you clench your jaw. “I didn’t even know about you. I thought Fin was single. I thought he was a nice guy who just wanted coffee one day. I thought he _cared_ about me.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t.” She snarls viciously, draining the last of her beer. She turns away from you then, eyes hard and back tense as she throws the empty glass into the sink. It clinks loudly, the only sound in the room, even the music isn’t as loud compared to her.

“I know.” You admit quiet and hurt and there’s a ringing in your ears so loud you miss her response.

She even looks beautiful when she’s furious, you think. Your eyes trail over her back, taking in the way her shoulder blades pop and tense at either side of her vest, her arms are so ridiculously attractive that you have to swallow heavily. You can’t bring yourself to move whilst she’s not paying you any attention and you don’t realise what she’s doing until she turns around with a red solo cup in each hand and shoves one in front of your face.

 “Is that a good idea?” You take the cup anyway, look into the neon red liquid. “It could be spiked.”

“Let’s find out together.” She shrugs, tilting her head back and downing the liquid in one. Your mouth dries at the sight, and even though you’ve got a drink in one of your hands you’re too busy watching the way her throat moves.

She finishes with a wince, gasping out a breath at the burn in her throat. She puts the cup on the counter between you heavily and wipes her thumb at the drip of red that’d leaked down her chin. Her lips capture her thumb, sucking the liquid from it, bright red and pursed.

A breath escapes your lips and you have to blink away from the sight. When you open your eyes again she’s leaning on the counter with a level, knowing gaze locked on your eyes. She smirks. You blush but she just raises an eyebrow and smiles wide and pleased,

“Drink up.”

You bring the cup to your lips slowly, eyes fixed on hers and you try not to smell the liquid as you slowly drain the cup. Your heartbeat speeds up and your eyes never leave hers as you drop your empty cup into hers.

She watches the way you don’t wince from the burn and smiles despite herself. “You handle your alcohol well.” The blush on your cheeks has everything to do with the way her eyes trail over your body appreciatively.

* * *

“No fucking way.” Octavia shouts, laughing. It shakes the bed and you groan at the movement. She sits up straighter, pulling the bed covers up on her chest and resting her coffee on top of the bunched mass. “You fucked her?”

“I don’t think it counts as fucking, O.” You deadpan, breathing in coffee and out your headache. “I ate her out in the bathroom of a house party.”

“How did you get from her barging your shoulder like a fucking sixth grader to you making her knees week?” She asks and she looks so genuinely impressed that you roll your eyes.

“You’re such a frat boy.” You shove her shoulder and she holds her cup up and out to avoid spilling it.

* * *

You haven’t seen Raven for a week, not that you thought you would. You don’t have her number, Miller still refuses to introduce Monty to the rest of your group and she’s never been in your life before, so why would she be now? You’re pretty sure you’re not _supposed_ to want to see your ex-boyfriends girlfriend as much as you do, or think about her as much as you do.

* * *

Saturday morning’s are always busy times in a coffee shop; especially on-campus, because even though every single one of them is a coffee snob at heart they’re also broke students and they’d rather put up with crappy coffee than none at all.

You have your back turned, wiping the counter behind you where Murphy had spilled and decided not to clean up.

“Fucking seriously.”

You turn around because there’s no one else on counter and its lunch time now, you can clock-out in an hour so you think you can deal with one rude customer. You should’ve known that the day you actually don’t think about her once is the day she turns up.

“Are you stalking me?”

You drop your cloth on the counter, feel ridiculously stupid with the black snapback pulled over your head and the black apron tied around your waist. “This is where _I_ work, Reyes.”

“I noticed.” She smirks, eyeing the green logo on the breast of you t-shirt.

Her voice is so beautiful, even with the scathing undertones. You try not to think about her hands gripping your hair and your mouth between her thighs and the way you had to steady her back against the sink as she came with your name on her lips. And it sounded so. Good.

“Can I help you?” You ask then because you can’t think of her that way and your eyes keep wanting to inspect the purple bruise on the juncture of her neck.

She rattles off her order quickly, like she hadn’t been expecting that to be the first thing from your lips. You turn eagerly then, needing to break your eyes away from her. She’s in a dirty grey tank top and black skinny jeans and she’s so beautiful in the midday sun.

There’s no room for talking, not with the loud noise of the coffee machine and not with you feigning complete concentration – you could do this with your eyes shut but she doesn’t need to know that. But you do eventually have to turn back to her with her order. You slide it across the counter and she tries to slide the money towards you. You stop it with the tip or your finger and push it back.

She looks up to you, scowling and you just shake your head, shrugging. “This one’s free.”

“Do you do that to all the girls you eat out or just the ones whose boyfriend you’ve slept with?”

It hurts but she doesn’t pay attention, turning away and sliding into a booth at the front of the shop. You scoff disbelievingly, shaking your head and turning away.

You don’t have many customers after her and it leaves you with nothing else to do but brood and watch her sit in the booth, head in her laptop. There’s no doubt that she must feel your eyes on her, because you’re not being subtle at all and you kind of want her to challenge you on it.

She doesn’t.

She doesn’t even look your way.

Every so often she shifts on the seat, like it’s uncomfortable, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t walk out. Until you’ve pulled off your apron and cap and are pulling open the door on your way home.

She has to run to catch up and you can hear her grumbling to herself when you ignore her presence. “Can you slow down?” She asks, almost out of breath. You side eye her, looking at her incredulously. “You have two working legs Clarke.”

You remember the way your hand scraped the cold metal when you spread her legs and stepped between them. You close your eyes and jerk to a stop. When you open them again you turn to her, she doesn’t step back from your fury and you’re impressed despite yourself. “You remember I’ve got a name now?”

She watches you with hard eyes but you’re too annoyed to really step back and ask what she wants. “How’s Fin?”

She balks at the question and her eyes narrow, arms folding over her chest and causing her laptop bag to swing around to her front, almost like a shield. “I left him the day I saw your tits on his phone.”

“What do you _want,_ Raven?” You snap, clenching your jaw. You’re sick of going around in circles.

“I want to talk.” She shrugs.

“You just sat for an hour ignoring me.”

“While you stared at me.”

You blush, “Did you know where I worked all along?”

“No.”

You raise your eyebrows, disbelieving and cross your arms over your chest.

“No. I saw you and I decided we should probably talk.” She unfolds her arms and throws her hands out when you say nothing. “Monty says I should talk to you. I’m grabbing the opportunity.”

You step forward, leaning forwards to whisper. Though you don’t know why because there’s no one around. It just feels like you need to. “You told him?”

“You told no one?” She counters pointedly.

“Octavia wouldn’t – Lincoln won’t tell anyone else.” You amend halfway through closing your eyes and shaking your head. “Monty will tell Miller.” You didn’t spend long with him that night but you’ve talked with him three times since. You firmly believe that he’s so deep with Miller he couldn’t even lie about the colour of his socks. “Miller will tell Bellamy and Bellamy will tell Gina.”

“Gina won’t tell anyone?”

“No.” You say before you realise she’s teasing you.

You roll your eyes and set off at a brisk pace. Hiding your sudden blush and the way your eyes close in embarrassment.

“Clarke-”

“Maybe I don’t want everyone to know that I slept with my ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend!”

“Ex.” She protests, just behind you in an attempt to match your pace. “Are you not out, because I didn’t-”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is!”

She stops walking, stood in the middle of the street, confused. You carry on walking, fully intending on leaving her there but you get a few steps away from her and turn back around.

“Every time we meet, which has been three times now,” You laugh, unamused, “you’re a complete bitch!”

You’re shouting down the street and there are a few college students dotted about who turn in your direction, curious. You want to close the space but you don’t want to move, don’t want her to see the way you shake in anger and hurt. She closes the gap instead, walking to you as briskly as she can.

“You slept with my boyfriend!” She spits.

“I thought he was my boyfriend!”

“He wasn’t!”

You don’t know what to say to that. There is nothing to say. You know that now and if you’d known it then you wouldn’t have gone anywhere near his cocky smile and kind eyes.

“This is getting us nowhere, Raven.” You sigh, resigned and tired.

“I know.” She sighs and it’s completely unfair how your stomach flips when she runs her hand over her hair and twists her ponytail around. “I don’t hate you.”

“Thanks.” You say sarcastically.

“I look at you and it hurts.”

* * *

“So you just agreed to avoid each other?”

“Yep.” You flip the pan, enjoying the gentle sizzle.

“Even though you’re so completely attracted to her.”

“Octavia.”

“Am I wrong?”

Your silence is answer enough and even the way Octavia pulls the plates out from the cupboard practically screams her smug amusement at you.

“Why are you so attracted to her? Does she have a magic vagina? She’s been nothing but a bitch to you.”

“She kind of has a valid reason, O.”

“No. She doesn’t.” She deadpans and you turn around eyebrows raised pointedly. “This is different, you’re my best friend.” Lincoln walks into the room freshly showered and smiling sweetly. You think he’s enough to distract her from this conversation but she just watches him with her eyes until he comes to stand behind her, hands wrapping around her waist and chin leaning on her shoulder. “You didn’t know. What more does she want from you?”

“O, it doesn’t matter. What’re the chances of me bumping into her again?”

“Miller-”

“’s boyfriend is Monty.” You nod, interrupting her and dishing up.

“Who is best friends with Raven Reyes.”

“Who has agreed with me that we should avoid each other.”

“Which is a stupid ass decision.”

* * *

You settle back into your routine and after a while she doesn’t cross your mind. You go to lectures and seminars and you work your shifts at work; make a few tips that leave you with enough money to keep movie nights going every Saturday.

The one thing you do find yourself doing that’s different is consciously not thinking of the taste of a girl you’ve only met three times.

* * *

Octavia would crease herself laughing. Less than a month later and you’re face to face with brown eyes again. She smirks, stood behind the bar with a towel wiping a glass. The music is loud and heavy on the base reverberating in your heart.

“Of all the gin joints.” She comments, eyes taking you in. “You walk into mine.”

“I can go.” You say though you don’t want to at all. It’s partly to do with your friends waiting for their drinks and the night ahead but mostly it’s now to do with her smile and eyes that dance.

“What can I get you?” She asks after a moment, putting the towel and glass down to lean on the beer pump. Her smile looks genuine but you’re pretty sure she’s only being as civil as she is right now because this is her job.

You list of the orders and she smiles, wide and pretty, getting to work. You think she might keep the silence, try to avoid any awkwardness or arguments but then she’s speaking to the glass she holds under the pump, glancing at you under her lashes quickly.

“Your round?”

“Yeah.” You nod and the question hangs in the air without it being spoken, “it’s the first time we’ve all had chance to be out together in a while. This is my punishment.”

“Punishment?”

“Yeah. I made it longer. I wasn’t feeling it a few weeks ago.”

She does the math in her head and you spot the realisation when it hits her. She just nods, fighting a smile, and slides a tray onto the counter before she starts piling drinks on top of it.

She takes the money from your hand and you pull the tray into both of yours, walking away before she can try and give you the change. You hope she keeps it as a tip.

When you get back eager hands descend on the tray like vultures, taking their respective drinks and you have to do an elaborate balancing act to make sure you don’t drop the rest of them. You slide into the booth and Bellamy pulls you into his side, already on his way to Annoying Drunk.

“She likes you.” He says, not at all quietly.

“Who?” You ask.

“The bartender.” He says as though it’s that simple. “She didn’t take her eyes off of you the entire walk back to the table.”

“You should get her number.” Octavia pipes in, leaning across the table and trying to see over the heads crowding the bar.

“No.” You say suddenly and two pairs of eyes look at you incredulously and you hate how much the Blake’s look alike in the indignation. “I already know her name.”

Octavia is way less drunk than Bellamy and she catches what you’re hinting at, looking back to the bar with an almost pained, “no.”

“Who?” Bellamy asks, putting his bottle onto the table at the seriousness of it.

“Raven Reyes.” Octavia supplies and she turns back, mouth open. “You didn’t actually tell me she was that hot, Clarke.”

“Raven who was-”

“-Fin’s girlfriend, yes.” Octavia interrupts, slapping her brothers arm. “Keep up.”

“Oh shit.” He mutters, looking down in deep thought, shoulder hunched and forehead creased in a frown, before he straightens up and shakes his head, shrugging. “So what?”

“What?”

“What does it matter?”

“She’s been nothing but a bitch to Clarke.” Octavia argues.

“Yeah, well the eyes that lingered on her ass say another story.” He grabs his bottle again, pulling it to his lips. Gina laughs beside him, wrapping her hand around his arm and leaning over his knee so you can hear her.

“Have you thought that she was a bitch because she was attracted to you?”

You shake your head, “I think it has more to do with the fact that I slept with her boyfriend.”

“Probably.” She asserts, mouth twisting up in a smile. “But then how would you feel if you were suddenly attracted to the girl who slept with your boyfriend?”

Octavia laughs loudly, delighted.

* * *

She starts to come into the shop at eleven o’clock every Saturday morning. You look up from the counter and she’ll be stood before you and she orders the same thing every time but you still ask her for her order. You start to wait for her entrance every week and every time the bell rings above the door your heart skips a beat just slightly.

You’re not sure why she keeps coming back, going out of her way to walk in on your shift specifically. Harper and Monroe have both told you, with delighted, knowing smirks, that she never comes in on their shifts – you hadn’t asked but they’d told you one movie night with smiles on their faces.

When she walks in this Saturday you have her coffee prepared and you watch her walk to the counter. That’s new and she realises it, smirk stretching across her face and eyebrow raising.

Your heart thumps painfully in reminder and your stomach flips. She looks beautiful. She’s in a vest – when is she _not,_ you’re quickly realising. Not that you’re complaining because her arms are, well, _really nice_ – and her jeans are hugging her hips and you have to remember to keep your eyes focused on hers.

It’s not really that different to the past few Saturday’s but you think that allowing her to catch you waiting for her has given you more confidence. You slide the coffee over the table when she stops before you.

“Morning.”

You fold your arms aver your chest. “Why do you keep coming every Saturday?”

She holds up her coffee cup as answer, forehead creased and mouth set in a line that is clearly intended to mean ‘ _duh.’_

“The coffee is terrible.” You say. “Monty says you live on the opposite side of campus.”

“You’ve asked about me?”

“Monty keeps talking about you.” You say honestly, though you blush at her amusement. “I think he’s hinting at something.”

“What would that be?”

“You tell me.” You say and you lean forward on the counter, feeling her amusement pull you in helplessly. The movement pushes your chest out and her eyes drop for a millisecond before they’re locked back on yours.

She shrugs, still smiling. You roll your eyes and hold your hand out for her money. She drops the cash into it, dragging her fingers over your palm slowly and you glare at her, but there’s no real heat.

“You look cute in your uniform.”

She stays long enough for your eyes to flicker to hers uncertainly and for the blush to spread over your cheeks and then she’s gone.

* * *

It stays that way for a while and it becomes your new routine. You have her coffee ready by midday every Saturday and she walks in, already smiling when she spots your eyes on her.

She flirts with you – Bellamy keeps telling you that it’s _most definitely flirting, Clarke_ – and in between you find out more about her.

She’s 22 – one year older than you.

She’s Texas born and moved here as soon as she’d saved up enough of her own money.

She’s studying Astrophysics, third year.

She lives with Monty off campus.

She’s not at all a morning person – _and she still comes in every Saturday morning,_ Bellamy points out and you ignore him because it makes your stomach feel lighter all of a sudden.

She has a secret passion for mechanics, for fixing cars – there’s no other way to describe her blush and smile but _cute._

* * *

When you walk into the bar again on Saturday night she greets you with a smirk and a wink and Octavia nudges your shoulder. You ignore her and walk to the bar, telling your friends that the first round is on you. Their laughs are almost loud enough to drown out the music.

“Twice in one day? You still being punished?”

You laugh. “No.”

She leans forward on the pump again and ignores the way her co-worker rolls his eyes and throws the towel before her on the bar. Her eyes don’t leave yours.

“Just eager to see me?”

Her mouth twists so unfairly and you swallow heavily.

“Something like that.” You shrug. “My friends seem to be under the impression that they’ll bump into Monty here.” That’s a lie. “Seeing as Miller’s keeping him away.”

The only reason that they’re here tonight is because Octavia and Bellamy have taken it upon themselves to push you towards Raven at every opportunity, sick of you bemoaning for weeks on end. _She at least wants a taste Clarke,_ Octavia reasoned simply.

“Yeah. I wonder why.” She says dryly, eyes flickering over your shoulder and back to you with a raised eyebrow.

You turn and groan. Bellamy and Octavia sit at a table, staring at you and when Octavia catches your eye she sends you a thumbs up. You blush and close your eyes, shaking your head.

“Yeah.” You mutter. Bellamy only grins at your scowl.

You turn back, sheepish and slow. She just grins at your expression and leans down closer. “Looks like they were right.” She whispers.

Your heart stops for a painful moment. She laughs at you and looks at you almost _tenderly_ and points towards the door you’ve just walked through. When you glance over your shoulder Miller is walking through with his hand in Monty’s.

“Hey, Rey!” He says giddily. “Clarke!” He has the biggest grin on his face and he drops Miller’s hand and pulls you into a hug. He pulls back quickly, too excited to fall into the comfort.

“Monty.” You greet, still feeling a bit lost. “Miller.”

“They’re over there.” Raven offers, pointing to the eyes still fixed your way. Monty’s eyes flash to Raven’s wide and shocked until they dance with amusement and he nods, grabbing Miller’s hand and begins to pull him over to the table.

You watch their retreating backs for a second and Octavia and Bellamy smirk in greeting. They pull Miller into a hug, Bellamy messes his hair up and Octavia kisses his cheek sloppily. You roll your eyes fondly.

“They wonder why no one likes to introduce someone new.” You laugh.

“Maybe Miller was just being sure.” She shrugs and her eyes are so fixed on yours you think she might be talking about something different. “That it was something more than just wanting to rip each others clothes off.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” You shrug.

“No?” She asks quietly, you almost don’t hear it.

“Better safe than sorry, right?” She nods, silent.

“Except when do you know when you’re sure?” She questions suddenly, brows furrowing together and her eyes leave yours for a second before they flick back up and lock back on yours. “When do you know if it’s more than just wanting to fuck each others brains out?”

Your eyes flicker between hers and she doesn’t even blink as she waits, but your throat is suddenly dry and all you can hear is the way her voice moaned your name and the way her hands pulled your hair so deliciously.

 “I think you’ll know.” Your voice is croaky but you ignore it. “You’ll know when it’s right.”

/

“I thought you were going to kiss.” Octavia says as soon as you put the tray on the table.

/

"Your friends drink fast.”

You nod and smile politely and the bar man stops before you, throwing the towel over his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest. It’s a tactic you’ve seen before – it makes the muscles stand out and. Mission accomplished. He has your attention.

“I got this one, Derek.”

Raven appears behind him when he turns around, small and stubborn. Your heart skips a beat at the way she nods him towards the opposite side of the bar and stares him out until he moves.

You smirk, “Jealous?”

“Yes.” She nods seriously, already setting to work on your order. You pause and your chest tightens at the ring of honesty. She laughs, “There’s no way I’m letting him have my tip.”

“I’m not going to give you one, now.” You threaten. “Just for that.”

“Well who’s paying for this round?” She asks and you blush, caught.

“Miller.”

“I like Miller, he’ll give me a tip.” She shrugs.

“Is my presence not enough?” You tease.

“Almost.” She relents, eyes flashing up and catching yours. “But I have an addiction to Saturday morning coffee.”

“Just Saturday morning?”

“There’s a cute barrister.”

/

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person turn so red before.” Octavia teases and you drink half of her vodka as a punishment. She shrugs, taking yours and drinking from that. “This just means you’ll have to go up sooner. I think you did it on purpose.”

/

“You know, I’m going to buy you a stool.” She says, stepping in front of you again. “You’re sat there more than you’re sat with your friends.”

“I know.” You sigh. They keep sending you to the bar and you _know_ what they’re doing but you don’t have the energy to fight it properly, too much alcohol running through your veins. They laugh loudly at Monty and they all turn to look at you.

Gina appears by your side, cheeks flushed from the cold outside, breathless. “Sorry I’m late.” She mutters.

“No it’s okay.” You shake your head. “They’re just over there.” You point them out and they’re laughing again and Octavia winks in your direction, puckering her lips and blowing you a kiss.

“I’ll deal with the kids.” She promises, pushing off of the bar. “Raven.” Her hand runs over your shoulder comfortingly and she disappears between the bodies.

“You’ve met?” You ask and she looks at you, eyebrow raised.

“Jealous?” You go to deny it, but she doesn’t give you chance. “She used to work here.”

“We have a lot of friends in common.” You comment.

“Yeah.” She nods and smiles and winks. “I think the Universe is trying to tell us something.”

You bite your lip, “What would that be?”

“You tell me.” She shrugs.

/

“Nope.” You say, putting your finger on Octavia’s mouth and sliding into the booth.

* * *

“Are you going to ask her out?” Octavia asks. She chews on a gummy worm and her feet rest in your lap and you _were_ paying attention to House of Cards but the question throws you.

“Who?”

She rolls her eyes, “The Easter fucking Bunny.” She throws a gummy worm at you. “Who do you think?”

“No.” You say definitely.

“Why?”

“I can think of a few reasons.”

“Tell me them.”

You begin to chew on your worm and she kicks you in the stomach impatiently.

“I’m thinking.”

“If you have to think for them then they’re not really reasons, Clarke.”

“Fuck off.” You mutter.

“I’m serious.”

“I slept with her boyfriend.”

“ _More_ than _three months_ ago.” She counters faster than you can blink. “She hasn’t brought it up in more than a month.”

“We agreed to stay away from each other a month ago.”

“Clarke.” She pulls the green worm away from her mouth and shakes her head, blinking owlishly at you. “She comes into your work every Saturday. Without fail. I don’t think she wants to stay away from you.”

“She suggested it!”

“Because you slept with her boyfriend.” You open your mouth to point out her hypocrisy but she just shuts you up with a _look._ “Which, when you made the agreement, was still very fresh. Now, she’s over three months down the road and many bodies over it.”

“Fin was her first.” You pause, hand dropping onto your knee heavily. “Everything.”

“Yeah and he made the decision to cheat.”

“Yeah, with me.”

“You’re focusing way more on this point than I’m sure she is right now.” Octavia sighs out tiredly. “Why are you so hung up on this?”

“Because I broke her heart.” You finally say and a surge of guilt burns your eyes.

She pulls her feet from your lap and crosses them, leaning forward and taking one of your hands, speaking softly. “Fin did that all on his own.”

“No he didn’t.” You shake your head and your tears leak.

“Yes. He did.” She pulls you into a hug. “He didn’t tell you the situation. This falls squarely on his shoulders, babe.”

You hold her hand tightly, squeezing her waist for the comfort she offers willingly and just _sigh_. You nod, you know she’s right. When she pulls back her eyes search your face for a second before she grins.

“You know, I didn’t hear you tell me that you weren’t attracted to her.”

“Shut up.” You push her shoulder.

/

“She’s probably not attracted to me anyway.”

“Clarke. You ate her out in a bathroom.”

* * *

It’s by pure luck that two Saturday’s later Monroe is put on the same shift as you. She watches you watch the clock and when you turn to her, mouth open and best puppy dog eyes in place, she just nods and watches you walk out from behind the counter.

 You grab the table in the corner of the shop and slide into it, two coffees sat on the table. You can’t bring yourself to touch your own coffee until she’s her so you just watch it, slowly cooling down before you.

Raven walks in at exactly 11 o’clock and you watch her eyes flicker between Monroe and Murphy behind the counter. She visibly deflates and maybe you shouldn’t feel as happy as you do about that – and your heart should _definitely_ not skip as many beats as it does just because you _think_ that she’s _missing you._

You think she might just turn around and walk out but then she walks to the counter and waits in line. You sit and wait and watch until she eventually gets to the front.

You blink then, collect yourself in the millisecond and when you open them Monroe is pointing her in your direction. You see her shoulders pull back and her spine straighten and her face honestly just _lights up._ You hold her coffee up in her direction and she smirks.

You put it on the table and tuck your hair behind your ear – and since when did you get nervous about these things it’s not like your friends are wrong when they tell you you’re scarily forthwith sometimes. She slides into the booth and pulls her coffee towards her.

“Morning.”

“I thought you were going to walk out.” You tease. “I didn’t realise I was that much of a pull for you.”

“I love the coffee.” She shrugs. “You’re a perk.”

You both know it’s a lie. You both know you’re the only reason she keeps coming back.

Maybe it’s that thought that gives you the confidence, you don’t know. Maybe it’s just that you’d like to know where you stand.

You take a breath, “What are we doing Raven?”

She swallows but she doesn’t pause for long. “Having coffee.”

“I meant – _what_ are we?”

“Friends.”

You shake your head, “Friends don’t really behave like this.” You point between both of your bodies. “Friends don’t think about their friends as much as I think about you.”

She swallows and delays with a deep sip of her coffee, savouring the smell. She looks out of the window, breaking the eye contact though you refuse to move your eyes from her face. You watch the emotions flicker across her face; shock and hope, anger and annoyance, and finally her jaw clenches in stubbornness and she turns back to meet your eyes.

“You slept with my boyfriend.” She finally says and you nod, patient. “But _you_ didn’t know about _me_.”

You shake your head, ignoring your coffee because you don’t think your churning stomach can take it.

“And I don’t think I’m supposed to feel this way about you.” She shakes her head. “I’m supposed to hate you. And I did.” She nods, a small grimace covering her lips. Her hands fiddle with the cup on the table. “I really did. When you walked into that party I wanted to punch you.”

“Well, thanks. For not.” You shrug.

She shakes her head. “The only reason I didn’t is because you couldn’t even stand up straight.”

You cringe, embarrassed. Her eyes flicker over your face, taking in the red rising on your cheeks and then she’s looking at you softly again.

“Why did you start coming here every Saturday?” You ask, just to distract yourself from the fluttering of your heart. Still, you lean forward, wanting to hear the answer. “I swear if you say the coffee, Raven.”

She smiles at your threat. “You walked in to the bar and you were laughing at something your friends said.” She remembers. “And at first I didn’t recognise you and my first thought was that you were really beautiful.” She admits with a blush she fights. “And then you walked up to the bar and. I don’t know.”

You wait patiently for her to continue. The silence feels full and overflowing and still you wait with this pressure on your stomach. She takes her time, forming the words.

“It didn’t hurt to look at you.” She says finally and it’s nothing more than a rushed out breath. “Well it did. It does.” She repents. “But in an entirely different way. And I think that feeling might have been there from that party. It was just buried under a lot of anger and hurt.”

“I get it.” You promise.

She nods and falls silent.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” You whisper. “I thought Fin was a good guy.” You shrug, shaking your head and shaking him away. “At the party.” She looks up to you. “In the bathroom.” You elaborate and she fights a smile. “I don’t remember how we got there, but I remember what happened.”

Even mentioning it you remember flushed cheeks and desperate, hard touches and her voice whimpering above you. You blink it away.

“And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.” It’s embarrassing to admit.

“Four months?”

“Four months.” You nod, running your finger up and down your paper cup. The heat seeps into your skin, a welcome distraction.

“And you came into the bar?” She asks.

“By complete accident.” You rush. “When you asked me to stay away. I. I wasn’t going to break that.”

“Thank you.” She says and you smile, small and sorry. “But you couldn’t stop thinking about me all that time?”

She’s teasing and her voice lilts lightly at the end. You shake your head, meeting her eyes pleadingly. “Please. Don’t. I have enough of Bellamy and Octavia with this.”

“I’m allowed to feel a little smug.” She shrugs, leaning forward and whispering. “You ate me out and couldn’t get me out of you head.” She leans back to survey the way your entire face and chest flush red and she smirks, so big and teasing. You heart stutters. “The second time you came into the bar.”

“When Octavia and Bellamy kept staring at us.” You nod, pursing your lips. “Yeah. That was their idea. They were under the impression that you were attracted to me.”

“They’re observant.”

“That’s because they never took their eyes off of us every time we spoke.”

“Probably.” She concedes, but then her hand slides over the table, stopping beside yours. “But they weren’t wrong.”

You nod, processing the information and you feel a small, pleased smile pulling your lips up. Her eyes watch you carefully and when her amusement slips her face straightens in seriousness.

“I was wrong.” Her voice is strained and when you look back up in search of her eyes, she’s looking down at her coffee cup. “Before.” She looks back up at you suddenly. “Fin did care about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart stutters. When the tight feeling clears you blink and suddenly you feel a lot better, lighter. You nod, blinking back the emotion that surges behind your eyes. “I know.”

She shrugs awkwardly, like she doesn’t quite know what to say and you take a deep breath.

“So what do we do now?”

“I think I still owe you a coffee.”

You’re silent, blinking at her slowly and the way her eyebrows raise expectantly. Her mouth is twisted in a small, one sided smile. You don’t answer and she blinks, brow furrowing.

“That was me asking you on a date.” She prompts.

You nod, coughing into your fist. “Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“Really?” She asks incredulously. “Well what _were_ you expecting?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, sheepishly grinning. “I didn’t expect the conversation would be this straight forward. You’d be a master at dodgeball.”

You grin and look down at your hands. She asked you on a date. You heart skips and your breath rushes out. She asked you on a date.

“Yes.” You say, nodding, maybe too quickly and maybe too rapidly. “I will go on a date with you.”

* * *

“I knew it!” Octavia laughs loudly, bouncing the bed and slapping your ass. You grumble, voice muffled by the pillow below your face. “She wants to taste the Griffin!” She shouts.

“Octavia, I swear-” You threaten and she just flops on top of your back, giggling.

“Are you nervous?” She asks and you just groan, shifting to knock her off of your bed. She lands with thud and laughs louder.

* * *

She takes you to an art gallery and when the Uber pulls to a stop at the curb you look at the bright lights and direct your confused glace towards her. She avoids your eyes and pays for the ride, sliding out of her door. You’re quick to join her and then she’s leading you in with a smile.

“Art Gallery?” You ask and she nods.

“Miller may have offered some advice.” She mutters as the door closes behind you. And then you’re faced with the stillness of the gallery. She places her hands in her pockets, swaying on her feet, slightly awkward.

“You asked about me?” You tease, heart fluttering at the prospect.

“I think it’s very clear I have an interest in you.” She replies, rolling her eyes and gesturing around the room. “Don’t let it go to your head, Griffin.”

The lights are harsh on her skin but she smiles and you swear it lights up the entire room with pure sun light. You grin step closer to her.

“Good.” You whisper in her ear, turning around and walking backwards a few steps. She follows after you slowly, hands still in her pockets, but she’s fighting a grin and then you turn around, feeling her eyes on your back, following you. You’re really glad you picked the dress with an open back.

For the most of it she’s quiet, watching you take in the art pieces. You try hard not to become too excited but she smiles at you like she can see through it and there’s definitely a smugness behind her eyes as she rests a hand on the small of your back. Her skin is soft on yours and you know she feels the way you shiver, and she can feel the gooseflesh rise. Her thumb rubs soothingly over your spine and you smile.

“What do you think about it?” You ask suddenly, leaning back into her and craning your neck to see her face. You can just see her profile and the way she swallows uncertainly.

She shrugs, shaking her head slightly. Her eyes roam over the painting, over the trees and the sky, deep and dark, over the miniature blonde girl stood in one corner, ordained in blues and the brunette in the other, shrouded with red.

“I’ve never thought about art before?” She answers in a voice that tilts with a question, shrugging again. Her hand rounds to rest on your hip, tightening self-consciously, pulling you closer like the admission will send you running.

“What do you think of it now?” You push gently, arching your back to watch her seriously. She looks at the piece again and a frown pulls at her eyebrows.

“It looks tragic.” She mutters.

You nod, eyes going back to the painting for a second and then she sigh. “But epic.” Your voice is a whisper and Raven nods like you finished her thought.

* * *

“Clarke.” There’s a sharp point digging into your rips.

“Mpff.” You mumble, rolling into the heat of the body beside yours. You sigh in contentment, feeling naked skin against naked skin. Lazily you begin to kiss at the warm skin beneath your lips.

“Clarke.” The voice says again and you smile, grazing your teeth against her neck, you hear breath catch. “You roommate is staring at us.”

Your eyes flash open then, pausing and you scowl, not even moving your eyes towards Octavia. You can feel her smirk.

The cushion flies from your hand with well directed malice, but Octavia catches it with a loud guffaw.

“Morning.” She sings and when you look over your shoulder she’s grinning and holding the cushion to her chest. “Is this the morning after date number six? Or does this technically count as date number seven. You know, seeing as you stayed the night.”

“Fuck off.” You mutter, turning over and holding the sheet up to your chest.

“Come on!” She protests. “Six dates.” She teases. “Six.”

“We can count.” You nod. “Raven is super smart.”

“I heard everything Raven is good at last night.” Octavia promises and you feel Raven groan quietly besides you. “It’s okay.” She promises sincerely and then her lips twist up with a mischievous smile. “I’ve seen Clarke after bad Indian. That was nothing.”

Raven laughs loudly, head tilted back and you nip at her ribs under the sheet. She squeals so uncharacteristically and it makes you grin and do it again.

“Stop.” She begs, trying to move out of the way of your hands. “Don’t.” She threatens pathetically, trapped between your body and the wall.

You giggle and move in to tickle her some more but then she hears Octavia’s snort and scowls.

“Is this official now?” She asks and Raven freezes, eyes widening and going towards Octavia stood in the door way, illuminated by the hall light like some type of angel of death.

“O.” You moan, falling back against the bed, head hitting the pillow with a thud as the air escapes it. “We are not having this conversation whilst naked.”

“I’ve seen all your business before.” She points out stepping further into the room. “Not going to lie,” she shrugs, “I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing Raven’s business.”

“You wish.” Raven smirks.

“I like her.” Octavia nods. “Is this official then?” Her hand waves between the limited space between you and Raven on the bed, eyebrow cocking curiously. Your heart speeds up at the prospect.

“Lincoln!” You shout. “Collect your girlfriend before I murder her.”

“Bitch.” She mutters, eyes narrowing at her best friend. She backs out of the room. “I’m coming!” She promises over her shoulder and she makes it all the way to the door and just before she shuts it, she pokes her head back in. “Don’t worry I won’t be as loud as Clarke last night.” There’s the faint sound of Lincoln’s laughter and you feel your face heat up, suddenly unable to meet Raven’s eyes.

“OOOOOO, Fuck! Raven!” Octavia shouts in an exaggeratedly high pitched voice as she shuts the door behind her.

Raven’s laughter shakes the bed silently you elbow her in the stomach. She groans loudly, shielding herself from you with a grin, still laughing.

“I do not sound like that.” You protest weakly.

“Yeah. You do.” She rolls up and onto her knees, and then leans over you, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head. “I like it.” She sucks your ear lobe into her mouth and you make a concerted effort to not groan too loudly.

It seems to spur her on and she leans down, pressing her body heavily against yours, breasts against breasts, thighs pushing into yours. You sigh, eyes slipping closed. Her mouth slips down, a fiery path from your ear to your collar bone and then she bites.

“Raven.” You gasp, had flying to her hair. Her laugh vibrates through your bones.

She pulls her lips away just slightly. “Are we?” She asks, lips moving against your skin.

“Hmm?” You ask, arching just slightly into her lips.

“Official.” She shrugs with some effort but she keeps her eyes fixed to your skin as she moves further down, lips and teeth grazing over your chest.

“What?” You stop, eyes flashing open, but she doesn’t and her lips enclose on you nipple, tongue running over it. “Raven.” It’s a half moan half admonishment.

“Hmm.” Her mouth vibrates where it lands and your eyes flutter in an attempt to close but you shake year head and tug at her hair.

“Raven.” She hums again but you tug harder until her lips come away. “Did you just ask me to be your girlfriend?”

“Depends on your answer.” She smirks, one shoulder shrugging with nonchalance even as she struggles to meet your eyes.

“Depends on whether you’re asking me seriously.” You reply, eyebrow raised.

She grins and shakes her head, eyes finally landing on yours. There’s a hot flush to her cheeks and you reach up, forefinger and thumb grasping her chin and pulling her closer. She comes willingly, biting her lip.

“You’ll know my answer if you ask me.” You whisper against her lips. “So ask me.”

Her lips push against yours them, pushing you down into the bed and you move with it. Her tongue traces your lips, fitting between them seamlessly and you growl in the back of your throat. She laughs, hand drifting down your side, nails scraping lightly.

You growl again, hooking a leg around her hips and she grins, grounding down into you. You bite her lip grin as her nails dig into your hips in retaliation. A laugh in the back of your throat, you push your hips into hers and wrap your hands around her wrists. She lands on the bed with a huff and a smile and you pin her hands over her head.

You raise your eyebrows. You know she knows what you’re waiting for when she shakes her head just slightly.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” She sighs like it’s a great effort and you let go of one her hands to nip at her hip again.

“If you insist.” You sigh heavily, lips connecting to hers in a chaste kiss. You pull back, grinning. “Yes.” You kiss her quickly again. “Yes.”

One of her hands breaks free from your hold and she palms your ass, bringing your hips down to connect with hers. You’re not sure whose moan is the loudest.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before the literal flaming mess that season 3 descended into and its been sat on my laptop for about six months now. So, I'm posting because it's niggling at me. 
> 
> Any feedback would be great I always want to better my writing.
> 
> Catch me on tumblr  
> talk to me, prompt me, idk


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